A Court of Twisted Lies
by TheLastBookBender
Summary: Feyre had sacrificed her life in the past to save Tamlin, but now she will sacrifice everything to take him down. For her home, her future, her mate, her friends and family. For her world. Feyre is now a spy in the manor of the Spring Court, but it will not be easy. Based after A Court of Mist and Fury.
1. Chapter 1

**HEEYYYY peeps. TheLastBookBender here *waves*. As some of you might know, I have another fanfiction based on a continuation of ACOTAR. But as you all know, ACOMAF is now out. YESSS. So I've decided to make a new fanfic based right after ACOMAF. Its Rhys/Feyre based, in the romance department. But hopefully this fanfic will be filled with oodles of other things. I hope? I have no faith in myself. Please review (: Constructive criticism is welcome, and while you're at it, tell us about your thoughts on ACOMAF.**

 **Cheers!**

 **Any rights go to Sarah .J. Maas…this is her series and characters, after all.**

Feyre:

This place was unbearable. The narrow halls, that eternal permeating scent of roses. The gated windows and heavy doors.

I didn't know how I could have ever lived here, ever considered this place home; the elaborate manor a mere façade to cover up the beast who ruled within.

 _You're being particularly dramatic today._ Rhysand's teasing voice shot down the mating bond that was tied between us.

 _Very funny. You don't need to contact me unless it's about something important._ Which was entirely false, and Rhys knew it.

 _I'm sorry for disturbing your holiday. Please, continue with your festivities._

I was suddenly flooded with an intense desire to hold my mate in my arms, to kiss him, to feel his body against mine. I let the smattering of love and ache echo down the bond, and felt it returned in kind.

"Feyre!" Tamlin said loudly. I snapped out of my dazed expression; I was sloppy, I should have been more careful not to let my distraction show.

We were seated at the dining room table, I on Tamlin's left, Lucien on his right. Today, a feast of fish, potatoes, steak, and vegetables had been served. Delicious in its own right, but nothing compared to the food prepared with kindness at Velaris.

How I missed my real home.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm so sorry, my love." I shook my head wistfully, as if dreaming of better times.

Twirling my fork, I let a slightly concerned look cross Tamlin's face before I replied. "I was just thinking of my sisters…I remember those horrible times in the cottage, but at least I was with them."

Tamlin's hands curved into claws, digging into the wooden table, a vein bulging slightly in his forehead. "I swear with all my heart that I will rescue your sisters," he growled fervently. "And then I will make that bastard suffer."

No. No, it will be you who will suffer for all you have done; it will be you who I will raze to the ground. I carefully made sure to maintain my slightly hopeful, worried expression; it was difficult when all I wanted to do was make this man bleed. When all I wanted to do was bring him back to where Rhys and I would tear him to pieces for splitting us apart.

I let a few innocent tears roll down my cheeks. "Is there nothing we can do right away?" Tamlin's expression changed from feral to determined protector and sympathiser.

"We're doing all we can, Feyre. Directly attacking the Night Court, alone, will result in a massacre. We must be patient until Hybern's forces arrive."

"When will that be?" I fretted anxiously, gently poking at my fillet of fish. Ignoring the warning glares from Lucien, Tamlin just shovelled more food in his mouth, and said,

"Well, it is a large force to transport all the way from Hybern, not to mention organizing and preparing the troops for battle. I'd say two months. Three at most." That gave us time; that was good. But that also meant I'd be trapped here until then.

"But that is so long!" I hated playing the helpless damsel who whined and could do nothing herself. But if that would save my people, then I would gladly do so. Tamlin said nothing.

And so we ate the rest of the meal in silence. I quickly contacted Rhysand to inform him of when the Hybern forces would arrive. I quietly set my fork down, and delicately dabbed at my mouth with a napkin.

Rising, I murmured, "I think I'll get some early rest. I've been extremely tired these past few days." Tamlin stood as well, and gave me a slight kiss on my lips that made me want to alternately gag and carve his lips off. He was so unlike Rhysand: the smell, the feel, the touch, the sound.

I almost vomited when he pried my lips apart with his tongue, and his tongue slithered into my mouth. I could faintly feel Rhysand snarling on the other side of the bond. I knew what Tamlin so desperately wanted, but which I always came up with an excuse to avoid; an invitation to my bed. Not that he ever needed one in the past.

Tamlin suddenly frowned and drew away. He sniffed the air, his nostrils widening. "You…smell different." My heart stuttered.

"It's probably that new perfume I tried on yesterday," I said. Tamlin vaguely nodded.

Smiling prettily, I sashayed up the grand staircase to my bedroom, where I could finally be alone. Gasping, I rushed to the faucet to thoroughly wash the taste of Tamlin from my mouth.

Today had gone surprisingly well. I knew I had Tamlin wrapped around my pinky finger, and unfortunately Lucien knew it as well. He had constantly been shooting suspicious glances my way since I had returned to the manor.

I quickly undressed, laying my heavy dress and underclothes on the dresser drawer. I combed through the piles of clothes in my wardrobe for a not-so-flimsy nightgown and pulled one out. That was when I noticed my unused monthly bleeding cloths, it\n a tidy folded pile.

I realized that I hadn't bled this month at all; but that was probably due to my stress. I had missed bleedings countless times in the years before.

After dressing, I almost leapt into my soft bed. It was so downy, that I was falling asleep almost immediately. There was a sudden knock at my door. I drew the blankets protectively up to my chin, and called out, allowing the person to enter.

It was Tamlin. _Shit, shit, shit._ He softly shut the door behind him. "Feyre?" He whispered, padding to my bedside. I closed my eyes then re-opened them after a few moments. He was dressed only in his trousers, the rest of him was bare. My whole body tensed, and I took a calming breath.

"Feyre." Tamlin said again. He cleared his throat, reaching out a hand to stroke my face. I inwardly cringed, my skin crawling. "I know it's been hard for you. But it's been awhile now, and we've been so distant." I could tell where this was going, and I instinctively clenched my thighs together.

"I've missed you so much," he murmured, his hand trailing down to my chest. In a blind panic, I reached for his mind. I tried to get past his mental defenses, like I had done with Tarquin, but something was different. I could feel his mind, but it was utterly blocked. I hurled myself at it in desperate attempt to stop his advances, but his mind was dead to me.

Intuition told me that this the king of Hybern's doing, to keep his pretty little pet safe from mental manipulation. A spell, perhaps? There was no way I could stop Tamlin, only forcibly. And that would destroy everything that I had worked a month for. I had used up all my excuses.

Rhysand's strained voice cut across my thoughts. _Do what you have to. I won't hold it against you._

The very idea of sleeping with Tamlin was revolting. I didn't know if I had any contraceptive tonic. What if I became pregnant?

Rhysand growled in my head, as Tamlin climbed atop me and started kissing my neck. I began gasping, taking in too much air. Tamlin took this for pleasure and started trailing further down my body.

I was nothing, I was shadow, I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe-

 _It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here._

Rhysand, who understood all too much what this felt like.

And so, while the man who I hated took my body, Rhysand took my mind. He took it far away to Velaris, to the feeling of him. He smothered my fear in a sea of love and understanding.

As the man I hated moved on my body, I was safe in the mental arms of Rhysand. I could feel the barely restrained rage of a man whose mate was being bedded by another male. My own rage at the fact that Tamlin couldn't even distinguish anything wrong from my almost comatose body, mingled with Rhysand's.

 _I love you._

 _I love you so much._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hola peoples. HERE IT IS! FINALLY! Yup, my last chapter pretty much sucked….I still got a lot to learn when it comes to writing. Well, pleaseeeeee review! I hope you all enjoy** **J** **I love you guys, seriously.**

 **Cheers!**

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **All rights go to Sarah. J. Maas**

 **Feyre's POV:**

I hurtled out of bed, my teeth clenched tightly together, trying to contain my nausea. I rushed to the toilet to throw up every content in my stomach. My nightmares had returned, but instead of waking in the dead of night, I had started purging my stomach in the early morning.

My knees ached against the cold floor, as I held my hair out of the way of my vomit. Tamlin hadn't come to help. Like he hadn't every other time. I didn't understand what drove him to pretend to be asleep; what drove him to ignore my suffering when he claimed to love me.

I spat a mixture of bile and saliva in the porcelain bowl with disgust. I shivered as I made my way back to the bed, not because of the chill, but because of the male that occupied my bed. I wanted to claw his face off.

 _Easy._ Rhysand said in my mind. His mental voice relaxed me a bit, enough to gather enough will to crawl under the covers again.

I must have fallen asleep, because once I woke the sun was blaring through the windows. Tamlin was still slumbering beside me, as I gently slid out of the bed and padded to my wardrobe. It was filled with all sorts of elaborate dresses, dripping with jewels of every kind; pearls, rubies, diamonds. Their texture was smooth under my hands as I snorted with disgust.

I chose a simple green dress that felt as light as air when I put it on. It was long, flowing, reaching down to my ankles in a little flare. I sighed, running the sleeves of the dress through my fingers. It felt like water beneath my skin.

Careful not to wake Tamlin, I opened a little drawer that contained a bottle of perfume. Underneath a few baubles was the amulet Amren had gifted to me. It was the little piece of my friends that I had with me. I felt tears beginning to build up and I quickly wiped them away.

I ferociously grabbed the little bottle of perfume in my grip, possessed with the urge to throw it against the wall. I ignored it, misting some fragrance over my neck and wrists. A heavy hand landed suddenly on my shoulder and I gasped, dropping the bottle where it shattered into little shining fragments.

Tamlin spun me around. "Sorry." He winced.

"It's-it's okay," I stuttered, stepping around the shards, only to be pulled into the tight embrace of Tamlin's. His head rested in the crook of my shoulder, and he breathed in deeply.

"Feyre, I-" Tamlin pushed me away roughly, but still held onto my shoulders. His face was contorted into a mask of shock. His fingers were digging into my shoulders painfully.

"Ow- Tamlin, you're hurting me!" He released me in an instant. Tamlin was gaping like a fish, and with his mouth wide open I could see all his straight, sharp teeth. I shook him.

"What is it!?" Tamlin opened and closed his mouth, opened and closed.

"You're-You're," He finally spluttered. "You're _pregnant."_ I froze. In a sudden instant I had fallen to my knees and vomited all over Tamlin's fancy shoes. He swore, and gently picked me up, cradling me like a baby. _A baby._

This ruined everything. I felt like screaming, like sobbing. Curse the Fae sense of smell.

I weakly acknowledged Rhysand in the background.

 _Shit. By the cauldron, no. No._

Somehow, I managed to dimly reason that at least it wasn't Tamlin's. Couldn't be. I had only slept with him last night, and I couldn't be pregnant since then. Which left the only option; Rhysand. I suppose it was a strange sort of comfort to know that it was me and my mate's own child.

But how? I had always taken the tonic…I racked my brain. By the cauldron. The night that Rhysand had made me the High Lady of The Night Court, we had made love, and so distracted by the ceremony and the following day, I had completely forgotten.

This was all my fault. Oh Mother save me. I was gasping for air, breathing too fast, too much. In a blind panic, I started lashing out with my arms and fists, hitting random slabs of flesh. Someone was pinning my arms down, their hands rough, I was trapped-

 _FEYRE._ I halted, and the grip on my arms relaxed.

 _Feyre. It's okay. It will be alright._

But even I could sense the franticness behind his words. We needed me to be a spy, to inform the Night court of the happenings at Spring. I was the only logical option, the only one who could be trusted enough by both sides, But Rhysand could never leave me alone in enemy territory when I was pregnant. Even if I stayed, when the baby was born, it would be quite obvious who the father was.

 _I will come get you._

 _No._ I silently shot back. _I've worked for this, I have paid for this position. I will not abandon it._

 _Feyre, please. I'm not leaving you there, not now._ Rhys' voice was adamant, unwavering.

Strangely, I understood what he felt. _I will stay until Hybern's forces come. Then I can leave._

I could tell that Rhys didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do, beside come storming in and steal me away. An image of his study in ruins flashed, the destruction caused by him.

 _Feyre. Promise me you will be careful._

 _When am I never?_ I teased. He went silent.

 **Rhysand's POV:**

They could all tell I was upset. When Mor knocked on my door and asked what in the cauldron's name was all that noise, I only snarled. She left me alone after that.

Amren soon came to check up on me, and was more demanding. "Open that door and tell me right now what happened. Or so help me, I will rip this door and you to shreds."

I yanked open the door. Mor was behind Amren, who was eyeing me in that eerie way of hers, shadows slinking across her wrists. Mor peered in to see the extent of the damage and gasped slightly. I angled myself to block her view.

Amren took no shit, and asked sharply, "What happened to Feyre?"

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed raggedly. "She's pregnant."

I had the feeling that this would be the one and only time I would see Mor speechless.

"When are you going to get her?" Amren demanded. I snarled, the first proper time I had ever directed one in Amren's direction.

"In about two to three months' time." Amren looked ready to tear my head off. "Feyre wanted to stay a few months longer, until the Hybern troops arrive." Her expression didn't change, joined with Mor's skeptical glance.

It went against my every instinct; they shrieked at me to retrieve my mate, to protect her. But I had to trust her, trust that she could handle it. My mate was my equal, my mate was powerful, resourceful.

Mine.

A scream sounded from above, piercing the stubborn tension, cleaving it violently in two like a knife through butter.

 _Cassian._

 **Feyre's POV:**

I was determined that this wouldn't change anything.

I was extremely far from helpless, I could fight just as well as I could before. Being pregnant suddenly didn't make me unfit; it was just that now Tamlin would keep an every watchful eye on me, or have someone else do it for him.

In fact…this could get me even closer to Tamlin. To pry his every last secret from the dark recesses of his mind, even if I had to learn them from his corpse.

Was it even possible? I pondered the possibility of stealing memories left in the brain after death. I would have to ask Rhysand later.

But for now, Tamlin would never suspect me of treachery, not when I was carrying what he thought was his child.

I lay in my own bed where Tamlin had placed me. The sheets were soft and warm, feeling like heaven to my stressed body. A grated window was open slightly, letting a warm breeze drift through the room.

It could have been easy to forget of my objective, with the scent of spring roses, the warm, clear air, the soft bed, and elegant furniture. But it was all shallow, all a façade, like the pretty skin of a fruit seemingly fresh. Until you put it under the pressure of a knife, and it splits open so effortlessly, presenting its rotten innards for all those who have eyes to see.

I shivered involuntarily.

Laying placidly there, a sudden thought hit me. I could slip away to meet a healer, and she could give me herbs to wrench this unborn child from my womb. It would be simple, I could chalk it up to a common miscarriage. I didn't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

It would solve everything.

But I dismissed this thought almost immediately after thinking on it. If it was Tamlin's child, I would not be so inclined to save it, but it was not. It was Rhysand's, and this was a part of him as well, and there would never be any instance in time when I would want to harm any fragment of him. Even indirectly.

I imagined myself, swollen, bloated, vulnerable.

I frowned. I was SO not looking forward to this.

"Fuck this," I said aloud. I roared. "THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

I might have just botched the entire act with that one yell. But frankly, I needed some sort of primal release, and trapped here in this room, that was the only way I could do it.

The door crashes open, a harried Hart peering cautiously in. "Lady?" He inquired, taken aback. "Are you well?" His face was pale, a faded welt crossing from his cheek from his forehead, narrowly missing his eyeball. I wonder what had happened; probably Tamlin had gotten a bit too loose with his wine one evening, and took out his eternal temper on his sentry.

I smoothed my face over with a credible, calm smile, fit for the submissive lady of the Spring Court. "Of course, Hart. I am merely finding a way to pass the time." Hart nodded gingerly, taken aback, and softly shut the door behind him with a snick.

I smirked.

A scream ratcheted down the bond, filling my head. I could feel the identity behind the scream; Cassian.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! Thanks for all your speedy reviews! So, here is another chapter…sort of hurt me in the darkest recesses of my soul to imagine this scenario… Lol. Enjoy! It's a bit short, and boring, and I apologizeeeeeeee. I'm also sorry for any typos and errors! I can rush a bit when I write!**

 **So there is a song that I feel is sort of like Rhysand and Feyre, I don't know. But it's really good. There are especially a few particular lyrics that ARE EXACTLY ABOUT FEYRE AMD RHYSAND. YOU MUST WATCH, AND COMMENT WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE SONG!**

watch?v=MtyBBoOUgho&index=20&list=LLS_BhCUaK-9Hyq46CVWx1Gg

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **Based on the works of Sarah. J .Maas. Thank the Lord almighty that this woman exists.**

 **Rhysand's POV:**

I bolted out of the room at the sound of that wrenching scream, Mor and Amren on my tail. Halfway up the stairs, I winnowed directly to Cassian's sickbed. He had been confined to that bed for weeks, his wings desperately trying to heal themselves, fighting off infection.

The scene unfolded around me in seconds. Azriel, hands clamped around Cassian's shoulders, pressing him down into the mattress, his legs held immobile by the spymaster's knees. Cassian was visibly struggling, and Azriel already sported a bloody nose and a swelling eye, where Cassian had slipped free and gotten a few punches past Azriel's defenses.

And the healer, sharp looking instruments held in her hands. Her face was pale, serious, but not frightened. I wondered what other things she must have seen for this not to faze her.

"Rhysand!" Cassian shrieked. "Please! My wings! Please!" It hit me, and I could see on the faces of Amren and Mor that they had arrived to the same conclusion. They were going to amputate his wings. Cassian screamed again as the healer approached warily. I couldn't blame her; Cassian looked murderous, and it was never an easy thing to have that gaze directed towards you.

Azriel seemed passive, but by the emptiness of his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, I knew what it cost him to hold his brother-in-arms down to cut his wings off.

I stepped forward, the words to stop them about to fall from my lips, when the healer snapped at me, "My lord, I must. He will most likely not survive unless we amputate his wings. At least then, he will live."

I had a clear choice; save his wings or save his life. But what life would it be without his wings?

Cassian roared. "I will slaughter you for this! Rhysand! Please!" A muscle clenched in Azriel's jaw, and I wondered how hard it was for him to continue pinning Cassian. Tears were streaming down Cassian's face; and in that moment something in my soul broke. Cassian never begged, never cried, not even in the face of walking nightmares and torture. But before I could say a word, Amren marched forward, and snarled one of the most terrifying sounds I have ever heard. The healer blanched, clutching her tools as if to use them against her, and even Cassian quieted for a moment. Mor was still in a shocked trance.

"This is his choice, not yours. Let him go, Azriel." The power and authority in that voice alone seemed to shuttle through the room, leashing Azriel and pulling him back. No one moved. The tension was thick enough to drown in.

I noticed the battering at my involuntary mental shields, Feyre demanding answers. I filled her in through flashing memories, a river of thoughts flowing from one mind to another.

 _Be safe, my love._

I was not sure who had spoken those words. Or maybe both of us had, for it was a single, melded thought from our entwined minds, blessedly together.

 **Feyre's POV:**

I ached to comfort Cassian, to tend to him and soothe his panic. I missed my friends, and the lack of their presence crashed down upon me, an iron weight clamped around my heart, wrenching me into a sea of sorrow.

I wallowed for a few minutes. I had been stuck in this room for hours; what did Tamlin expect me to do? Anger clenched at my heart, anger at the fact that I was being treated like a trained, pregnant bitch in her kennel, bearing royal hounds for the master.

I wouldn't stay here any longer. I quietly rolled over in my bed, then winnowed to the doorway, so to prevent any creak of the floorboards. I could feel the presence of two unknown guards posted outside my doorway. I grasped their foreign minds in my mental hands, clenching my physical fist and sending them unconscious. I quickly winnowed in an instant to where they stood on the other side of the think oaken door to silence their fall.

I could not simply winnow anywhere I wished without taking out the guards first, They were in the habit of checking up on me every hour or so. I had to plan for the possibility of being missing for more than an hour.

I huffed as I yanked the guards into my room and locked the door behind them from one of the keys on their belts. I would wipe their memories when I returned. Wiping my hands on the skirt of my dress, I glamoured myself invisible.

Tamlin had left the manor some hours ago, and had now returned, with another High Fae. This was my chance for information regarding his plans.

I could smell his sweet, rotting stench from here, I simply followed my nose to his location. The carpets were soft, plush beneath my velveted feet. I passed through a hallway lined with portraits, another containing row upon row of pedestals topped with trophies of every kind. Antlers, carvings, locked iron boxes.

I was nearing Tamlin and his guest now, I could both smell and hear them.

"-Out of the question!"

"-No other way. You have made a deal." A growl, and I could imagine those claws becoming visible and punctuating wood, and-

"This was not part of the bargain." Tamlin was speaking now, heavy words that dropped from his mouth and landed upon my ears like weights.

I could practically hear the unknown man smirk as I stood casually, a foot away from the door, still glamoured, still silent.

"Oh, I believe it was. You promised passage through your lands, and any help from your subjects." Tamlin was breathing heavily, enormous gulps of outraged air, like he was running an endless race. And perhaps he was, a race from his past oaths and careless words.

"The King requires the subject of the Lady of the Spring Court." I almost gasped, but swallowed it. Tamlin roared, and something crashed into the wall. A chair, perhaps.

"I have already told you. Never- Going-To-Happen." He accentuated every word with a bang of his fist on the table. The other man shuffled around for a moment, before shoving back his chair with a screech, and standing, I assumed.

"I await meeting your Lady," the man rasped. "Because I _will_ use her. You do not dare cross the King." Tamlin hissed, and another crash resounded, when suddenly-

A figure materialised beside me, and I almost shrieked in surprise, terror cracking through my heart. Fortunately, I had enough sense to keep up my glamour, hoping it was enough to hide me.

I cursed myself for my utter, utter stupidity and uselessness. I should have recognised his voice. I should have recognised his _stench._

The man before me was Jurian.

"Come out, come out, little girl," he sang eerily. "Come out where I can find you."

His eyes gleamed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! I hope the other chapter was okay thanks to all who reviewed! These next few chapters will mainly be Feyre, from her perspective. So, Guest asked me for her birthday that I update a new chapter. Guest, whoever you are, I promise you a chapter on your birthday, so be prepared. Lol. The timeline in this chapter might be a bit weird, but just bear with me…Reviews and constructive criticism greatly welcome. I'm sorry that this chapter is sort of blegh.**

 **URGENT. PEOPLES. YOU MUST LISTEN TO "KING AND LIONHEART" BY "OF MONSTERS AND MEN." It reminds me so much of Feyre and Rhysand! In almost every line there is basically unintentional references! Little talks by that same band gives me a Rhysand and Feyre vibe, although it is not** ** _really_** **comparable to them. It is like the scenarios in the beginning of the book, and then the end. The male voice is Rhys, and the female voice is Feyre. Idk….BUT PLASE LISTEN TO THEM AS A FAVOUR!**

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **Feyre's POV:**

Without thinking, in a flash, I winnowed into my room. My heart thundered in my chest as I snapped the guards from their daze and replaced their memories hastily. I didn't have much time to do it properly, so they would be left with somewhat foggy memories, but there was nothing I could do about that now.

My hands were sweating, and the panicked screeching in my head wasn't helping any as I unlocked the door, shoved the guards outside, and used magic to whip off my clothes and change into a soft, lacy nightgown.

I winnowed once more into my bed and under the heavy covers, feeling more light as my amassed magic was released. Not a moment too late, as there came a heated argument outside my door, followed by a roar, some yelling, and the pounding of my door. Jurian's voice floated above the rest;

"I smelled her! I smelled her!" He shrieked, panting heavily. I could just imagine his feral eyes and bared teeth behind my shut eyelids. The door chased open, and then a snarl as I rocketed out of bed. Tamlin was therein full beast form, having tackled Jurian to the ground, one paw clamped over his neck. Jurian laughed, wild and insane, eyes bulging.

Tamlin growled. I could see him fighting his urge to tear this man's neck out…Jurian was a man of Hybern, after all. There would be consequences, and a hefty price to pay if Jurian was killed here.

I backed up until I hit the wall. "What is going on, Tamlin?" I was relieved when my voice cracked, further cementing my role as a vulnerable, delicate lady.

Tamlin pulled Jurian up, his legs dangling about a foot above the ground, and roughly carried him out of the room.

The terrified guards yanked my door shut once more at the growl of Tamlin, the lock dangling like Jurian had, broken.

Anger washed over me. How _dare_ he dismiss me, like I was nothing? I was a High Lady, just as powerful as him, even more so, if I really put my mind to it. I forced myself to relax. Someday, someday I could show him what I was, what I could do, as I ripped his heart out. Maybe I would let Amren drain him of his blood.

What a fitting end for the High Lord of the Spring Court, one who has, and will, shed so much innocent blood for his own desires.

I crawled back into bed and slept fitfully for the rest of the day.

When I awoke, it was dark. I wrapped myself in the blanket, and padded to the door, where I opened it and peered outside. The guards snapped to attention, blinking the bleariness from their eyes. It was a new set of sentinels, they must have rotated shifts sometime while I slept.

I took a step into the hall, and one of the guards pursed his lips but didn't say anything, so I took it as a sign that I was allowed to leave the room. _Allowed. How did I never notice in the past how Tamlin had controlled me?_

I huffed in disgust and made my way to Tamlin's study, passing through the same eerie halls that I had once found cozy. I knocked on his door, and a few seconds passed before I heard a grunt of consent.

I creaked the door open. Tamlin sat in a corner of his once-again trashed study, a glass of wine in his hand, and his shirt unbuttoned about halfway, where I could see his tanned skin. He leaned back against the wall and sighed.

A lone painting was ripped to shreds, hanging flat on the floor. A priceless work of art, ruined in a fit of temper. I stamped my own temper down.

Wordlessly, I crossed the room and sat down beside him, assuming the same position of legs stretched out, back against the hard wall. A fragment of furniture bit into my thigh, but I ignored it.

Tamlin sighed again, and I took his large, free hand into my own two palms. I resisted the urge to immediately scald my hands in boiling water to rid myself of the feel of them.

"Jurian wants to take you." The words hung in the air, waiting for me to grab them and make sense of them.

"Why?" I asked cautiously, squeezing his hand slightly. He squeezed back.

"You have something the King needs, or so he says. Something about your _powers._ " My heart skipped a beat, the fear showing plainly on my face. He growled at my expression.

"I won't let them take you." The words reminded me of a different time, a different me. Tamlin had said those almost exact words to me when Rhysand was calling in his bargain. Looking back on it now, I was so very glad Tamlin had failed in keeping his word.

I stroked his palm with my thumb. "How long would I be gone? Where would I even go? Would I meet the King?" I asked softly.

Tamlin shifted his weight and his body angled towards mine as he muttered, "Jurian wants you to meet the King of Hybern. He wants to winnow you there." I was partly shocked that he had shared information with me, and surprised too. What reason would the King of Hybern have to meet me?

I had to force the panic down, forced down the fear at seeing that Faerie again, at seeing his throne of human bone.

"I'll go," I blurted suddenly. Tamlin's eyes narrowed.

"I said I won't let him take you," he snarled angrily, eyes flashing at being dismissed. I hugged him close to my body and he nuzzled his face into my neck. Revolting.

"I probably wouldn't be gone long anyways. You made a deal with him, and it would bring down his wrath upon us if we broke it." Tamlin's eyebrows nudged together as he considered this possibility.

I drew back and held his face in my hands. The darkness cast shadows across his face as I leaned forward and kissed him, the very act making me want to vomit. The scent, the feel, he was entirely _wrong._

 _"_ Love, once this has all passed, we can live in peace, forever. I don't mind spending some time with the King to achieve that." I almost choked on the words, but my acting skills had improved after all this time. My voice was steady, smooth, alluring.

He nodded once, tirelessly. "I'll inform Jurian. He will return in a week." Tamlin pulled his hands from mine and stared at them dejectedly, as if they had betrayed him from not being able to protect me. I stood up, the cramped muscles in my legs stretching.

I faked a yawn. "I'm tired. I think I'll retire to my bed."

I left him there, alone.

Alone was all he deserved, anyways.

The next morning, I was rudely awakened by Alis barging into my room.

"Lady, you must dress," she ordered apologetically. Alis gently pulled me out of bed, where I stood, blinking, as she marched to my wardrobe and pulled out a light, flowing dress. It was a light green, reminiscent of watered grass, and hung down to my ankles. The back was open, the front reaching up past my collarbones. Embroidered flowers decorated the hem.

It was hideous.

"The High Lord has sent for a healer today," Alis remarked, helping me into the dress. I noticed the swelling of my abdomen. I hadn't realized how much it had stuck out, until now.

"What?" I screeched. I yanked away from her and she cursed as a tiny rip appeared in the dress.

"To check your condition." She pulled me back. "And now look," she fussed. "You've torn your dress. I suppose we can simply cover it up."

"My condition?" I screeched for a second time. Alis rolled her eyes and finished helping me into the dress, sliding the straps onto my muscled shoulders. She walked me over to the mirror, where she pushed me down into a chair and started on my tangle of hair.

"To check on your pregnancy." Alis frowned as she dropped a pin, and bent down to retrieve it. My face flamed.

"I-I don't _need_ to be checked," I stammered. Alis glared at me, and shrugged.

"The High Lord orders it." I spluttered with barely concealed rage.

"B-b-but!"

Alis sniffed in distaste. "No buts." I conceded with a sigh. I couldn't get out of this. Alis pulled me up once again and steered me into the bathing room where my face was splashed with water.

I was marched back into the room and shoved onto the bed.

'Now sit," Alis ordered. "And _do not move."_

So I sat, for about half an hour. I could hear a clock ticking, my guards breathing, in and out. I jogged my leg.

 _Rhysand?_ I called down the bond. The mental connection felt stretched, and it took more effort to communicate from him.

 _You called, Feyre darling?_

I breathed a sigh of relief, tinted with happiness.

 _By the cauldron, I love you._

 _Right to the point, eh?_ I could practically feel the false snarky-ness of my mate. My heart ached to hold him.

I chuckled.

 _Like always._

A pause.

 _I'm bored_ , I said mentally to Rhys

 _I can think of a few things to keep you entertained_. My pulse picked up its pace. A knock broke my reverie.

 _I need to go. I love you._

 _I love you too. Always._

He went silent in my mind once again.

"Yes?" I called. "It's unlocked." A stern looking woman pushed her way in, holding a pack of tools and materials.

"You must be the Lady Feyre." I nodded. Her voice matched her face; expressionless, sharp, defined and calculating. I could see in her eyes the large number of years she had lived, and the toll it had taken on her soul.

"Lie down." I did as she asked. My face flushed horribly as the examination started.

I got through the embarrassment by playing out every scenario in which I could kill Tamlin. I would cut of his manhood for this. I fumed silently until it was over. His audacity in not even consulting me about my own body.

The healer was fast, and efficient, and it was over faster than I expected. She packed up her things before turning to speak to me. I scooted to the edge of the bed and yanked my dress down.

"You are in excellent condition," she informed me gruffly. "Just get plenty of rest, and you should be good to go."

She strode out of the room, then whirled to tell me. "You should deliver in about six months, judging from your size."

So I was three months along my pregnancy. The morning sickness had abated after the first two months and a half.

That means that I was in the Spring court for almost three whole months. I shuddered. I couldn't wait to be home.

 ***a week later***

I wanted to die. I had been sentenced to eternal bed rest by Tamlin, and it was literally killing me. Doing nothing except lay in bed all day made me want to fall on a knife, my utter uselessness was slowly suffocating me.

I growled. Did Tamlin learn nothing from our separation? Obviously not. However, my escape would soon come, at least for a little while. Jurian was due today, and I would leave this festering hole.

Lucien wasn't even here to spice things up; he had been sent off by Tamlin to monitor a border skirmish.

I sighed and kicked my heels against the mattress.

My ears cocked as voices floated up from the floor before me, and then suddenly the said voices were in my room. I shrieked, scrambling backwards, which I always seemed to do.

Jurian and Tamlin were before, one smirking, the latter snarling.

My heart jumped, even as I tried to convince myself that this was for the better. This way, I could get close to the King of Hybern. To learn of his plans, and maybe, _maybe_ how to kill him.

"That will be all," Jurian sneered, his eyes tracing my body. Tamlin trembled with rage beside him, arms twitching as if to reach out and tear Jurian's limbs off. I actually wouldn't have minded that, the newly-resurrected faerie gave me chills.

Jurian stalked up to me and roughly grabbed my limp arm. He sniffed at my flimsy nightgown. "You don't need to change. I like what it shows." Tamlin leaped, morphing into that wolfish beast, ready to rip Jurian to shreds. Jurian wisely winnowed out in an instant, the darkness overtaking us, but not before he whispered silkily into my ear, "I know what you are, little one."

And I knew with all my heart that I was going to my death.

We tumbled into a dark, damp, stone room, Jurian still latched onto my arm. It was a relatively small room, the size of my bedroom in the Manor. It was bare for what I could see, except for several torches dotting the walls, but I could also taste the glamour in the air. Something was being hidden here, and I wasn't strong enough to pierce the glamour.

Jurian shook me. "Get up, girl," he snarled fiercely. Fear pounded through my veins, crawling up my throat to choke me, as the King of Hybern materialized before me.

His hard, black eyes glinted in the meager light of the torches. Here, I was powerless, and he knew it too.

He snapped his fingers, and manacles appeared on my wrists, anchoring me to the floor, my knees slamming onto the floor. I suddenly felt light-headed, and I could see them for what they were; that blue stone that cut off any magic. The slight whisper of Rhys disappeared, and through my panic I realized that I couldn't contact him.

He wouldn't know where I was until it was too late.

I was going to vomit.

The King prowled closer, and leaned down to where I now knelt. "Did you think I would not find out?" He questioned softly, but there was nothing soft about his question. The king straightened and rubbed his hands together.

"Oh, this is just too perfect, my darling." He laughed, a grating sound that made me want to cover my ears. I heard water drip in some unknown place, and my terror intensified. I would be tortured, killed, murdered.

No. Stop. I was the High Lady of the Night Court, and I was brave. I was the mate, the _equal_ of the greatest man that had ever lived. I could do this.

I lifted my head up high and looked the King straight in the eye, and he just chuckled.

"The mate of the High Lord of Night. Turns out I didn't break the bond after all." My heart stuttered, and once more I was afraid. Would he try to break it again? Would he succeed this time?

"A certain High Lord has been getting immensely in the way of my plans, and you, my dear, you will be the bait to draw him out from whatever cave he is hiding in."

I spat in his face. "I would rather die." Perhaps it wasn't smart to provoke the man who held me captive, but this was Rhys, my beloved Rhys of whom he was speaking. My blood boiled.

Anger reflected in the King's eyes, and he slowly wiped away the spittle. "That you shall do, that you shall do, and in good time," he murmured. The king gave a slight nod to Jurian, who approached me with a grin.

And with one fluid moment, buried a knife in my stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay, I'm going to try to do better on this one. Sorry if my writing has been faltering or getting really bad, it is sort of because I was rushing because I had things to do, like study for exams. Well, Happy Birthday, Reegan! I hope you see this lol. This one is for you! It is a bit short though, sorry?**

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **Rhysand's POV:**

Everything was finally getting under way. Feyre was doing her job as best as she could for the current moment, Amren had finally accepted the fact that Feyre wasn't returning immediately, Cassian's wings were healing, as well as Azriel. Mor's mood had improved at a similar pace to Azriel's improvement.

I grumbled silently. It was about time. Mor had consistently been a pain in my ass for the last three months, and I was seriously getting close to throwing her off of a cliff.

I smoothed by hand over the empty velvet space beside me, where my mate should have laid. My heart ached, my arms burned to hold her in my arms.

I sighed. I was feeling so very dramatic today. I remembered saying those exact words to my mate, and I smiled wistfully with nostalgia.

The bed felt too large with only me, like a puzzle with an irritatingly, _wrongly_ missing piece. I groaned and buried my face into the warm pillow, thought for a moment then flipped it over to lay my head on the considerably cooler side.

Sleep had returned to a gamble since Feyre had left; nightmare or no nightmare? Some days it was Amarantha, torturing me, tearing my wings off, killing the ones I loved. And sometimes it was just Feyre: Feyre dying, Feyre bloody, Feyre with a broken neck.

I don't think I will ever forget that sound. I shuddered.

The worst ones were when _I_ was the one above her, shoving a dagger into her beautiful eye.

I hoped that tonight, I would be spared this.

I could feel sleep overtaking my sense, lulling me into darkness, when suddenly something was so wrong. So unbearably wrong.

I leapt out of bed, my wings snapping open, almost painfully. I used my magic to dress me, then winnowed to Amren.

It maybe wasn't the best idea; surprise Amren in her private rooms in the middle of the night, but I just wanted to fix this _wrongness,_ and Amren would be the first one to know how.

She snarled, horrible, terrifying, and for a moment I thought she would rip my heart and out and feed it to me. But I was desperate, my mind scrabbling. It was Feyre, it had to be, something was wrong. I couldn't feel anything from the bond, like something was blocking the bridge between us.

Empty.

Amren had been lounging contentedly at her desk, the Book of Breathings before her, sipping from a glass of spiced blood, if my nose was to be trusted.

Now she was baring her teeth in my face, nose crinkled and her silver eyes swirling dangerously.

I didn't flinch, only panted out, "Something is. Feyre. I can't feel her."

Amren was suddenly cool, calm and collected, but the anger lingered. I knew I would have hell to pay for it later.

"Call the others," she ordered, brushing past. "We're going to the Spring Court."

 **Feyre's POV:**

I groaned. The pain was spreading, radiating from the centre of my abdomen and rippling outwards like little waves in a pond.

They obviously didn't mean to kill me yet; the blade was steel, not made of ash wood, but it still hurt like hell.

I desperately wanted my hands free from these chains, a least to hold my aching middle.

Jurian smirked, the blade held in his hand dripping blood. "Bitch," he sneered. "At least that demon spawn won't be causing any problems in the future."

The words carried across the room, wrapped themselves around my throat, forced themselves into my lungs and took up the place of my air.

Jurian cackled like a madman and strode out of the room, only pausing to leer at me once again, and slammed a thick iron door behind him. I could hear his footsteps echoing in the hall.

Another pang of pain shot through me, so harsh that I almost wished Jurian had speared me through the eye instead.

I knew why he had stabbed me; to show his dominance, to show how much control he had over me. What silly pride, silly pride that had caused this pain to befall me.

The wound hadn't healed. The manacles were blocking any magic I had, but I knew my stomach wouldn't heal. It would simply fester, only increasing the pain until I probably agreed to whatever bargain they would place before me.

But nothing they would do to me could force me to turn against my mate. Even if they stripped my flesh off-I shivered at the thought- I would stay true to Rhys. I hoped.

I became abruptly aware of the blood gushing out in torrents between my legs, and my pain-addled mind put two and two together, just barely. It was by abdomen that was pierced, I should only have been bleeding out from there.

Jurian's words registered. _At least that demon spawn won't be causing any problems in the future._

No budding child could resist such intrusive, physical trauma.

Which meant that whatever child I had carried in my womb, just starting to grow, was dead.

This child, which I had never wanted, only thought of as a burden and obstacle, swiftly had become the focus of my existence as I felt its life ebb away.

I knew Rhys had been slightly happy. Worried, majorly so, but a little bit joyful that he would soon have a child of his own to care for, a product of our love.

 _So very precious,_ had been his words about offspring, in that isolated cabin where we had first mated.

Torn between two posts, a fetter clamped on both wrists, a gaping hole in my belly, kneeling in this cold and hard room, I wept.

Wept for the loss that would be added to Rhys' tally, another sorrow to add to mine.

The combined pain of a stab wound and a miscarriage threatened to overtake me, when unexpectedly, there was this burning desire to make this dead baby into a person. Not just an _it._

A name. That was all, and then I could let blessed unconsciousness cover me.

I racked my mind for some name that would click, a name that might possibly sound just right.

I recalled a lone legend that I had read in a dusty book in Tamlin's library. Queen Reegan, beautiful monarch, who had defended her people against all odds and had conquered.

I felt as if this name would be what Rhys would have agreed upon. If this baby had lived, I knew in the deepest recesses of my soul that this is what it would have become.

Strong, powerful, beautiful. Brave.

Reegan.

I let the darkness engulf me, and I sank into the murky ink with a sigh of relief.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, my avid readers. Ugh I'm sorry, you all. I know I haven't really been writing well or anything. I'll try to do better. I really hope you enjoy, please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.**

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **Rhys's POV:**

As to be expected, Cassian threw a fit when ordered to stay behind. His wings still hadn't full healed, and I wasn't about tempt fate, when he had already been extremely fortunate to still have them attached firmly to his back.

We had been a hairs-breath away from amputating them. They were almost healed fully, with thin membrane stretching over the previous shreds in his wings. That thin membrane needed rest, or it would tear in the first few strenuous flight, and never reform.

We couldn't risk that; Cassian, the inner circle, and the whole of Prythian couldn't risk that. We would desperately need Cassian at full strength for the upcoming war, so we left him grumbling in Velaris, as we spiraled into the air.

I held Amren in my arms, Azriel grasping Mor. I would rather hold- if it could even be called that-a spitting dragon then Amren in my arms ever again. The expression on her face was murderous, and I held her as far away from my body as I could, the complete opposite of how I would have clutched Feyre close.

My heart gave a painful twist as I called to mind her stubborn smile, her pealing laugh-when she did laugh, rarely-and that glint in her eyes whenever she faced opposition. I tamped the thoughts down before it drove me mad with want and fury. Fury at Tamlin for taking her from me.

We broke free of the surrounding wards, their power a slight ripple along my skin. We had decided, Amren, Mor, Azriel and I, to fly a safe distance away from Velaris before winnowing, in case of any residual tracking magic from the King.

I eyed Azriel peripherally. His face was stoic, emotionless even, as he clasped Mor tight, near to his body, their legs entwined. My cousin's mouth was puckered into a straight line, as she stared at his chest, a yearning in her eyes. I fought the urge to chuckle, despite the lack of humor in this depressing, silent flight.

I would wait patiently until those two finally cleared their tumultuous past and accepted that they were both in love with each other. Azriel, at least. He really had to get over that he was bastard; he should have known by now that Mor didn't care about his lineage in the slightest.

A snicker slipped past my lips and Amren narrowed her eerie silver eyes at me. We seemed far enough, at least to be partially safe, so I loosened my grip on Amren, and she dropped, our unspoken signal. She winnowed in a flash, followed by Azriel and Mor, still entangled.

I was the last to winnow. It was a longer than normal journey, and I could feel the inky darkness pressing around me on all sides, the lack of air- and I was out, landing feet first onto a moist field of green.

The blanket of grass yielded under my boots, uncannily soft and pliant. Something felt off about this visibly peaceful place- as if it wasn't peaceful at all…more like a slumbering, ancient creature, waiting to burst from sleep and spread its destruction.

I shivered, extremely out of character, when I noticed what was so unbearably wrong about this place; there was none of the ordinary noises accompanying such a place. No birds singing, no critters scampering underfoot. No yells of joy.

My friends looked as unnerved as I felt, excluding Amren, as expressionless as always. A fire sparked in her eyes, as she growled, "What are you all standing there for?"

Azriel snapped into motion, leading us quietly down the meadow, to where a stream wound through the grass. There was no fish in this water.

Azriel was still holding Mor's hand; he seemed to have noticed it the moment I did, and quickly dropped it as if it was scaling. Mor glared at his muscled back, but didn't say a word.

For about ten minutes, we trekked alongside the stream, our footsteps making no noise, when Azriel halted and dropped to the ground. I followed his lead, as did the females.

Past a small copse of trees, down a steep slope, stood the Manor.

A sickeningly sweet stench drifted towards me on the wind, and I fought the urge to gaga as it brought back memories centuries before: of gore and blood, and pain. Darkness.

Hybern was here.

I almost flew from my hiding spot, almost called my power down upon this manor and the soldiers I could not see.

Feyre. Feyre was here. Alone, in the midst of these soldiers, who had arrived much too early in accordance to their plans.

Or what we had thought were their plans. By the cauldron.

"Glamour yourselves," I hissed, feeling it slink over my skin, like an itch that I was unable to scratch. The feeling abided almost instantly, and I spread my power out over to Amren. She could glamour, but it took too much of her energy, more than it should have, so I just glamoured her whenever I could.

The grass tickled my elbow, but I ignored it.

We had planned this all beforehand. I would winnow into the Manor with Amren, with Mor and Azriel to stay behind and scout, and they would winnow to us if we had need of it, but I doubted it. I was the High Lord of Night, after all.

I allowed myself a little smirk, my power roiling under my skin, waiting to be realised.

 _Soon_ , I silently crooned to it, and raked a mental hand down the darkness. It purred in response, almost arching, alive, its own being.

 _Soon._

I winnowed into that inky dark, and in a flash was inside the Manor, Amren appearing beside me.

Paintings adorned the cream walls, a plush carpet beneath my feet. Being back in this place brought back memories of when I had become a High Lord. Of when my father had been killed.

 _Tamlin's sword pierced his chest, the tip protruding from my father's back. He choked, blood dribbling from his lips before his pain-filled eyes turned blank, and the former High Lord of Night slumped to the floor, dead. My father. He was never a good man, but I loved him the same, and he had gone here for vengeance. I respected him for that._

 _His body stared up at me from the floor, an expression of shock and surprise still frozen upon his face._

 _I vomited. My whole family, wiped out in a matter of weeks._

 _The power abruptly cracked through me, and my knees buckled, sending me crashing to the floor. Tamlin seemed to be in a similar state; prostrate on the floor, groaning. I could kill him. Take that sword and use it to lop off his worthless head, for betraying me. Betraying my family._

 _But I couldn't, for some bothersome memories of comradery, along with the feeling that this was enough bloodshed for one night._

 _We both stumbled to our feet, and without a word, I shambled past him. My hand twitched._

No.

I squished those memories down to most rotten part of my thoughts, centuries of hate and anger and pain. Buried them beneath concern for my mate. I could not allow the long-gone past to overtake me now.

Amren was peering at me with what looked strangely like a mix of disgust and pity. I chuckled darkly, letting the sound fill the air.

If Amren was pitying me, what had I come to?

I straightened, fixing the lapels of my jacket, and I let a few tendrils of night leak from me like droplets from a tap. Merely skimming the ocean of my power, but it was enough to intimidate.

Amren at my side, I strode through the Manor, seemingly without a care. I could smell him here, the High Lord of Spring, and I followed his scent through the off-white halls, which turned to a hunter's green as I neared what seemed to be a thick oaken door. Every minute or so, I spotted a servant, most of whom who blanched and sped on their way silently.

I snorted. Some loyalty, to not even alert their High Lord of my presence. Voices drifted towards me as we neared the door, and my ears pricked.

"I can't believe you let her go!" Lucien, that was. I would recognize his voice anywhere, rough and low, so similar to Beron.

A snarl, Tamlin I presumed.

"What else could I do? She will be back soon."

"And if she isn't?"

"Then we will-" He never finished the sentence. In one, swift movement, I blasted the door open and strode into their midst, Amren right behind me, her flashing eyes promising violence. No one moved for a tenth of a second, and then Tamlin leaped at me, claws out, already transforming into his beast-and slammed face-first into a thick, invisible wall.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So predictable," I sighed, snapping my fingers. Vines of darkness spooled around Tamlin's ankles and wrists, chaining him to the floor, Lucien joining him.

I stroked my hand over his reddish hair, and he snarled, snapping at me with his teeth. "Now now, little Lucien," I crooned. "You had better be a good boy, if you want to see your mate again." Lucien grew still, mouth pressed shut.

Elain and Nesta were currently, safely in the cabin where Feyre and I had mated. Every couple days or so Mor would visit them and keep them up to date, as well as deliver food and provide them with a few lessons for their newfound skills. Nesta, of course, had refused for both herself and Elain. I would have focused on them a little bit more, but we had bigger things to worry about. They were safe and fed, which was all that really mattered.

I smiled indulgently at him, smug and filled with what I knew would irritate him further. Surprisingly, he kept silent, no small feat for the so-called traitorous son of Autumn. Tamlin, however, kept snarling, spitting foul oaths. His eyes blazed.

I spun to face him, Amren stationed at the door. The vines clasped his long hair in their grip, yanking his head backwards which bared his throat to me. I ran a finger down the tanned, warm skin, my finger barking in disgust.

"I'm debating whether to rip your throat out sooner or later," I told him matter-of-factly, and honest statement. I would have loved to tear into his neck with my teeth, some primal part of me wanting to feel the blood run down my chin, but I would leave that to Feyre. She, after all, had earned it.

"Whore," he roared. I bared my teeth, my lip curling, and slugged him across the face which snapped his head backwards even more.

"Where is she." A cold question, unyielding. I found that I liked it that way. Tamlin simply growled.

I breathed in deeply, the air sweet and thick. "I'll ask you once more." I snapped forward, my teeth bared in his face. To his credit, he did not flinch, his eyes trained on mine. "And if you do not deign to answer, I will make you."

Silence. I grinned. Exactly what I had wanted. I would make him pay for separating my mate and I.

A single talon appeared, curving from my pointed talon. I would start with physical pain first, and if that did not work, I would simply break his mind. Although, breaking his mind was simply more than he deserved; being able to vent my rage on his face would be much more…worthwhile.

I leaned forward. "One more chance, High Lord. Where is my mate?" Tamlin's expression morphed into a mix between horror and fury.

"She is not your _anything_ ," he vented, mimicking the exact words Nesta had yelled at Lucien a mere three months ago.

I sighed, and slashed my talon from right corner of his forehead to his chin. Tamlin's lip wobbled.

It felt good, to inflict pain on this beast, this arrogant, misguided, selfish _fool._ This fool was destructive in his blind path, ruining everything he got his dirty paws on. I snarled, and ripped an identical gash in his face, forming an X.

Tamlin flinched, as Lucien yapped behind him, things about whores and traitors and filth. A wave of my hand, and he hastily shut up as a shadow caressed his mouth then wrapped itself around his neck.

I knew he wouldn't tell me anything, just on principle. But I was enjoying myself immensely. That this boy, who was still in his swaddling clothes while I was slaughtering foes on a battlefield, would think to challenge _me,_ was outrageous. Taking the one person that I was an equal to, who understood me completely…it was a grave mistake on his part. 

"Hurry up," Amren snapped from the door. She had warded the room beforehand so that no noise would bleed from the room. "We haven't all the time in Prythian."

I gave a curt not and with one fluid movement, wrenched off Tamlin's ear with my bare hand. This time he did groan, jerking at his bonds as if to hold the right side of his skull. The blood dripped down the side of his cheek and onto his tunic, soaking his green lapels. I dropped the amputated ear in his lap.

"I am not in a patient mood. Tell me where my darling Feyre is, right now." I grabbed his chin, forcing his face to mirror mine, but his eyes dropped to the floor.

"It is never a good thing to keep the High Lord of Night waiting," I murmured, but still he kept quiet. I sighed. Breaking the mind it was, although I never quite took as much pleasure in that form of extracting information. Also, I wanted him alive and fully sane for when Feyre decided to end him.

His shields were embarrassingly easy to crumble as I forced my way through his minds and grasped the very core of him, shifting through memories. I avoided the ones about his family. I had no wish to fully immerse myself in Tamlin's innermost thoughts. Suddenly, his mind slipped from my hold like a fish, slimy and wiggling so that is was extremely difficult to hold on to.

I snarled... when a voice cut the air, clear and sharp as a knife splitting flesh.

"I know where she is." Lucien had braved the shadows threatening to choke him and had spoken up. Maybe not so much of a spineless prick.

I glanced intently at his direction, allowing the shadow around his neck to loosen a fraction. Lucien swallowed and muttered, "Hybern has her. Jurian took-" He sputtered off at what must have been my face, distorted with fury. Amren was glaring at them also, her lip curled to show pointed teeth.

They had let MY mate go to Hybern. My Feyre, alone in the one place where she had limited power, and a host of awful memories. They had let Feyre willingly back into the lion's den, the vipers nest, presumably against her will. And he claimed to _care_ for her.

"And…how long exactly was that?" I droned, soft as purple velvet.

I would tear their hearts out. Followed by every other vital organ.

Lucien swallowed.

"Al-almost a day ago," he sputtered. Around the time Feyre had been completely cut off from me.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

The wisps of darkness slammed Tamlin's head onto the floor, hard enough to crack it, the sound trailed by Lucien's skull doing the same. They went limp, unconscious.

Amren smile gleamed in the sunlight streaming from the windows.

I frowned as I noticed a lone gardener, staring at us with an expression of terror. His body was like a tree, covered with bark, with protruding emerald wings, flimsy and light. Had he watched the whole exchange? I laughed quietly to myself and snapped my fingers. The two Fae disappeared to where Moir and Azriel would be waiting. They would take of them.

It was time to rescue my mate.

This time, I wouldn't be the villain coming to snatch the princess away. No, this time I would be the prince to save her.


	7. Chapter 7

**PLEASE READ!**

 **Heya! Long time no see, my beautiful friends and readers! First off, I want to hug you all in extreme appreciation for the feedback I've been getting! You peeps are AMAZING. Shoutout to SweetWaterSpice (she has written a couple stories, check 'em out for me, will yah?) for helping me so much. Guys, PM me and I will answer if you have any constructive criticism, ideas (please tell me them!) , or if you yourself need help. Or even if you'd just like to talk, I'd love to listen. Sorry for this long author's note, but one more thing. I'd like to apologize for not updating in AGES. I know it's frustrating, I've just been terribly busy. This** _ **will**_ **be short, kind of like a teaser.**

 **Love you all!**

 **-TheLastBookBender**

 **P.S. Some of you have pointed out my typos *winces*. I'm very sorry. I just rush so much and try to get chapters out that I don't proof-read as well as I'd like. One of you should message me…I'd love to have an editor, in a sense. If that isn't too much to ask? I also have cringe attacks when I read over my stories ;)**

Feyre's POV:

The funny thing about captivity is that you begin to forget life before it.

The days blurred into a grey fog that refused to surrender any sort of clarity, or in that case, sanity. It did, however, give birth to a sense of hopelessness that never rested unless in sleep, where dreams and nightmares took hold. Dreams so frightening that crushed any semblance of thought into the dirty stones.

My head lolled, bent over my chest, lanky, rank hair falling over my dry lips. My arms ached, pulled almost vertical with chains made from that heavy metal which was laced with ash wood. It smothered my magic like a vise around my neck would smother my air. The chains were bolted into the ground, forcing me into a permanent kneeling position.

The proud Lady of Night, Feyre Cursebreaker, so humilated in such a fashion.

But even all that could not compare to the utter sorrow and excruciating pain that radiated from my abdomen and soul. I had miscarried the child soon after that fateful plunge of the ash knife, and Jurian had come to grant me a semblance of mercy by forcing a "lesser" faerie to clean up the remains.

The wound still festered, and the pain, so familiar, had become a constant companion. I drew in a ragged breath, one of many, the smell of my own life draining from the rip in my stomach.

But almost as terrible was the boredom. It wasn't as prominent as the hole that had ripped in my soul, nor the pain in my wound, but it was still there, and it haunted me.

To do nothing, to ache and hurt and live but to _be_ nothing was silently killing me. I had memorized every crack in the walls that I could see. I had counted the amount of blocks that made up my prison; three hundred and fifty two. Eighty-eight blocks per wall, four walls that surrounded me. A perfect square, tiny, not counting the damp cold floor, nor the dripping ceiling.

Everything about me was dirty, the once gorgeous dress transformed into a beggar's rags. Although, I couldn't say I missed it. I chuckled lightly to myself and gasped when a spear of pain shot through me.

Suddenly, every moment I spent under this castle washed over me relentlessly. Every emotion, every prick of pain, every sorrow.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes, and I wept for all that was, and could have been. It was too much, as I felt myself cracking, a broken china doll that could not sit pretty on her shelf.

It was too much.

I screamed, in rage and panic, or maybe fear. I wrenched at my bonds, feeling the cuffs scrape away my skin, revealing only flesh and blood. So red. I kept yanking my arms, back, back, back to hold me, to wrap those useless pounds of meat around my torso to comfort myself.

Back in my village, I had seen crazed horses, beaten or starved past their limit, that would screech and kill themselves trying to be free. I had seen them, rolling eyes and all, and wondered. But now I knew, that wild alarm that pulsed through my veins and pounded in my chest.

I had to be free. There was nothing more important. Not my thirst, nor my hunger, nor any feeling I had left.

I howled, cried, and shattered until it felt like hours, and I could feel myself drifting, floating into a semi-lucid consciousness away from the past, the present, and the impending future that could hold only death.

 _Rhys and Reegan. He's teaching her how to use a sword, laughing as he fends off her feeble swings._ Three unyielding torches that light my cage _. Reegan has bright eyes the colour of a stormy summer sky, and rippling, glossy black hair that is loosely plaited into a braid that falls to her waist._ He'll never find me.

 _Rhys pretends to trip as he backs away from our daughter, and as he falls, so does the miniature sword held in Reegan's hands._ Dead, never coming back. _"Daddy!" She screeches, and bounds over to him, her juvenile hands reaching out to his chuckling form._

" _Come here, little bird," he says, and leaps to feet to grab Reegan and swing her high, high above his head._ Cold walls. _That's when I notice her glorious wings stretching from her back. She laughs, and a smooth voice drifts over to the smiling pair. My voice. "I thought you were teaching her how to fight?" Rhysand's face breaks into a grin that reaches his twinkling eyes_. My mate. _"I got side-tracked."_

Damp floors.

 _Rhysand_

A rotting stench.

 _Rhys_

In that moment, I could have heard an answer, a small answer from the Mother of our forsaken world.

" _I'm coming."_


	8. Chapter 8

Hey readers!

Wow. Let me just say how sorry I am for never getting back to you all. Life has a way of getting in the way of things, and I haven't felt emotionally energised enough to write again.

So, I'm just here to say that this story will probably not be continued. Of course, I might change my mind, but yeah.

But. I am going to expand to other stories, other authors, maybe even movies or tv shows. But.

I suddenly feel that maybe, just maybe, I want to try to write my own ideas, my own characters. Whoo. I'm young, and I wanted to try to write a little now before uni and a full-time job gets in the way.

I'm not sure if I'm ready to face my fears and start this journey, but here I am.

 **Follow me on twitter MaccenChez for updates :)**

 **Or instagram at nina_and_buddies.**

Another thing! I wouldn't mind trying to write a book with a co-author. If anyone has any ideas I'd love to write with you. I feel a little silly, but I guess I just woke up and told myself; "Jessica, why are you waiting around? Why are you always letting your fears and anxieties and that voice in your head hold you back?"

So here I am. Please share this. I swear, I'm not doing this for attention or anything. Lol. But for anyone else out there? Do it. Do what you've wanted to do for a long time. Just go out, and you kill it. You do you. Because no one can do you half as well as you can. :)

So, collaborators! Join meeeeee to write a book that maybe in a few years, or three decades, might be published. Who knows?


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